


Gold Rush

by Riachinko



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: Alcohol, Bladder Control, Desperation, M/M, Omorashi, Public Blow Jobs, Sassy Lefou, Situational Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 11:08:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10740483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riachinko/pseuds/Riachinko
Summary: LeFou's already having a sour evening at the tavern, but when he spitefully manages to get rid of Gaston's date, he gets more than he bargained for.





	Gold Rush

**Author's Note:**

> Whoops, this is ridonkulous, apologies.

The tavern in late fall skewed cold in the earlier hours of the day. Though the fireplace blazed and kept the North-most end of the bar cozy, it took the body heat of the dozens of nightly patrons to keep the building warm once the sun had set.

As it was, LeFou sat alone on a stool at the bar itself - still too early to bother grabbing a table for himself and Gaston’s hangers-on. He shivered and focused on the little heat he could feel against his back.

“What’ll it be, then, eh?”

The barkeep was a family acquaintance of Gaston’s; a rotten older man, wrinkled from head to toe - or at least LeFou imagined - with a gruff voice and permanent grimace. LeFou was used to his demeanor, and the man was typically courteous enough to him and Gaston.

“Soup, if you don’t mind.”

The man turned and mumbled, and LeFou took it as a “Yes, of course,” and sat waiting patiently, chin in one hand, the other tapping a slow rhythm against the bartop. He idly tugged at the ribbon that bound his hair, releasing his thick wavy locks against his neck for warmth.

“Two beer over here!”

The voice behind LeFou startled him enough to jump, and the hand that grasped his shoulder squeezed. Dick roared with laughter as he took a place at the bar beside him, shaking LeFou back and forth playfully as he sat.

“On me, LeFou. The missus is pregnant - I’m here to celebrate tonight!”

“You’re here to celebrate every night,” LeFou chided, but he smiled just the same. “Congratulations.”

 

-✤-

 

He’d downed his tourin and two steins of ale on Dick’s tab by the time Gaston had stumbled into the bar - perhaps already a bit tipsy himself - with a woman clinging to his arm. She herself was fair-featured, and it was obvious by the blush on her cheeks and the way she swaggered against him that she was already sauced herself. She wore various shades of green and had dark wavy hair that mirrored LeFou’s. He recognised her vaguely, but ultimately it didn't really matter.

The barge waved at him from across the room, and LeFou beamed and returned the gesture as Gaston took his place on his antlered throne. He was beautiful, and LeFou’s eyes never strayed from him, watching his muscles flex as he lifted the woman into his lap; his adam’s apple bobbing, his lips curling into a wide grin as she slumped against his frame.

LeFou was used to watching such displays, and at times he could even look into his stein and fantasize that it was him in Gaston’s lap. He wasn’t nearly drunk enough to erase her yet, however.

Dick slapped the bartop jovially as a salut and made his way, beer in hand, nearer to Gaston, met by Tom and Stanley. They sat at a round table, unbothered by Gaston’s hand snaking its way up his _fille du jour_ ’s skirt. If anything, likely impressed.

“Another one, please, Monsieur,” LeFou said, raising a finger.

He was in a sour mood already, having hoped for a Guys Night playing darts or cards. A drinking game, perhaps. When he looked sullenly over at his crew, Stanley did wave him over with a smile, but LeFou turned his head back to the bar and chugged down his newest beer instead.

He shivered and slammed his fist down in unison with the mug, hitting the bar with a satisfying clink.

LeFou was satisfied: a full stomach, a full bladder. But it was time to make room for more drink.

He moved to get up, stool scraping loudly across the wooden flooring. He held to it tightly, for as soon as he stood, his vision began to rock - just slightly, but enough to be embarrassing if he let on that he was drunk after only three pints.

He didn’t want to be rude, so he made a stop by Gaston’s chair.

“Evening, Gaston!” He didn’t acknowledge his friend’s lap-lady as he continued, “You’re looking well tonight. In healthy spirits, I mean.” He bit his lower lip.

Gaston smiled, absorbing the compliment. “Sit, LeFou!” He bellowed, tugging LeFou close by the hem of his vest.

Gaston drew a chair over with his foot, and sat LeFou down onto it with a forceful hand clasped to his shoulder. The stairs at the entrance of the tavern seemed miles away, then, and LeFou melted against the weight of Gaston’s hold. He had to pee...but feeling the warmth of the man’s hand, and thinking about the coldness that waited for him outside, well. He could hold it.

A barmaid was soon near them, collecting other patrons’ empty mugs from surrounding tables and plopping three freshly-poured ones in front of LeFou. He paid her, and sipped lightly from one, Gaston and his lady friend collecting the others.

He could feel the discomfort in his gut already, less than a quarter of the way through his fourth drink.

“You’re my best story-teller, LeFou; regale us with something to impress the lady, will you?”

LeFou’s lips twitched upward, pressed to his stein, flattered slightly by Gaston’s backhanded praise: of course he was the best at talking about Gaston. Who else worshiped the man like he did?

Of course, too, that meant he couldn’t leave until his story was complete.

“Okay, um,” he began, dimple forming on his cheek as he thought. “Here's a good one that's often overlooked.”

He cleared his throat and absentmindedly sipped his ale. The protest in his bladder worsened steadily.

“ _Novembre 1767, en Poissy_. A camp of only a dozen - no, even fewer; nine, I'd say - men, led solely by the dashing--! the strong--! the determined Gaston! His men were weary, nearly sick to death from the brutal weather - it having poured rain for days already. It was blisteringly cold, the terrain was wet and slick with mud…”

The lady hung on his every word, reaching across Gaston’s lap and the large chair to rest her forearms on the pelt-clad arm of the chair opposite her, and Gaston leaned back in his seat with his eyes closed, listening to LeFou’s tenor lauding his accomplishments.

“He was up against a department of 1,000! His general told him to surrender, but did the Great Gaston listen? Of course not!”

LeFou swung an arm for emphasis, huge smile faltering as the motion caused a pain to splinter its way down to his abdomen. He froze - the lady watching, awed - and he forced himself to sit harder against the wooden chair he was in. To get through this story quickly...that’s all he needed.

“The enemy army assumed it would be an easy fight. They knew Gaston had only twelve - _nine_ \- men, and they had...more than ten times that..! They got cocky. The night before the great siege, they partied and drank and had a giant feast! But that’s when Gaston led his men to attack!”

With less exaggeration than he normally would have practiced, LeFou hit a fist to his open palm. His eyes were wide and glazed; the combination of alcohol in his blood, the urgency to relieve himself, and the excitement of the story making him antsy. He squirmed in his seat; sat up straight, rocking as inconspicuously as he could back against the seat, fighting the need to piss with whatever tangible pressure he could.

Luckily, Gaston took over and began to finish the story, confident grin settled firmly in place, scooping the woman back into his arms.

That’s when LeFou stood and began to make a move for the outside.

“Leaving already, LeFou? The story hasn’t even reached its thrilling end!”

He froze. “Hm?” his hips rocked from side to side, and he could see an unusual predatory look in Gaston’s eyes as he continued. “Um. Just heading over to the bar - more beer?"

LeFou inwardly sighed, scolding himself for being intimidated.

Well, holding it _did_ feel sort of good, he supposed.

“Absolutely, friend, thank you,” Gaston bellowed cheerily. “And one for the lady as well.”

He fidgeted around to pull several coins from his purse, placing them into LeFou’s palm with a wink, and LeFou turned curtly on his heel; hair bouncing around his shoulders as he moved, dodging several patrons who had begun to make their way towards his seat.

Standing seemed to help. Walking over to the bar was more or less an easy feat, and he was careful about it as he did so. He leaned against the bartop, trying to focus on the coolness of it; avoiding spilled puddles of ale and whiskey on its surface and keeping his clothing clean; anything to keep his mind off of his bladder.

“LeFou,” a woman spoke.

“LeFou!” She tapped his shoulder and took her place standing beside him. “Joséphine, my friend: has she really got a chance with Gaston?”

LeFou regarded her through slitted eyes; he recognized this one from around town. Long blonde hair bound in curls, pink ribbon tied at her neck. He smiled at her, teeth barely showing through his devious grin. What a blessed opportunity to rid himself of competition.

“To be honest, Paulette--”

“Colette,” she interrupted.

“Yes-- well, I think Gaston may be using her to seek your attention, perhaps knowing how close you are.” He looked at her earnestly and winked. “You’re far more beautiful after all, if I may say.”

Colette gasped, and slight smile of disbelief tugging at her features. She clung to his shoulder and whispered at him, “Do you truly think so?”

“Yes,” he said, “but she’s quite drunk. Perhaps you ought to take her home before something unseemly happens and you miss your opportunity.”

She stared over at Gaston’s throne, and LeFou’s eyes darted slyly in that direction as well as he ordered three more drinks. Gaston seemed not to be paying attention to the woman slung against him at this point in time, instead staring over at LeFou. It made him nervous, to feel his heated dagger stare against him - but if he was being honest he was thankful for the credence it gave his lie.

“He’s staring, Monsieur,” she whispered.

“Taken aback by your beauty,” LeFou whispered back.

She remained at the bar as LeFou loaded the steins onto a tray and headed back. It had been a nice distraction, but he wavered now, the burning desire to pee nagging at him. He stopped briefly, but slowly was able to shuffle his way over to where he’d been seated.

“Here you are!” he said, voice higher than normal. He did not sit. Not yet.

Gaston stood instead, the girl in his lap struggling to balance herself as she was thrown unceremoniously from him. He looked tired, but his brow was raised and read of amusement and intrigue.

“I’ll be back in a moment, friend. Nature’s calling.”

LeFou set the drinks down on the table, motioned to turn and leave with Gaston - nearly begged to join him - but Gaston pushed him onto the throne.

“Keep my seat warm for me, will you? It’s a might bit cold in here tonight.”

A tingle in his groin told LeFou that he was about to lose it, and surely enough, the faintest bit of a trickle soiled his knickers.

“You don’t look so well, LeFou!” Stanley called over to him suddenly, smiling, but brows tight with concern. “Feeling alright?”

LeFou smiled and nodded.

“Better than Dick over there,” he called, raising an accusatory finger to Dick, who had long since passed out, slouched over the table, and Tom who looked about ready to join him. Stanley raised his mug and bowed his head in reply, and that was the last of it.

When he turned his attentions back to himself and Gaston’s plaything, he found Colette there as well, ready to scoop up her friend and take her away. The two women bickered back and forth a bit, but it hadn’t been a lie that Joséphine had drunk a lot, and she allowed herself to be propped up against her friend and carried out of the bar.

Colette smiled sweetly at LeFou, who waved back with a “ _Bonne chance!_ ” and not two minutes after they had ascended the staircase, Gaston was back, standing at the foot of his chair, looking sullenly down at LeFou.

“As I was coming back inside, LeFou,” he started, voice a low rumble, almost a growl, “I happened to see a woman in the distance with a dress as brilliantly green as the one little Joséphine was wearing tonight. Do you know where she was heading off to?”

He spoke evenly enough, but LeFou was familiar enough with Gaston to know that he was upset; trying hard to control his anger. LeFou was typically the one to temper his moods, but it was quite a problem when LeFou _was_ the problem.

“Sh-she was quite drunk, Gaston” he smiled helplessly, squirming again, “and her friend wished to take her home.”

“Well,” Gaston said darkly, “I suppose one can’t argue with the fickle whims of a lady...Can one?”

LeFou just stared, lopsided smile fading as he removed himself from the man’s chair and sat  on the arm of it instead.

 

-✤-

 

True to his wishes, the rest of the evening was spent with his crew of men - not a lady in sight - playing cards. But every time LeFou would inch away to head outside, Gaston would grab him by the shoulder and keep him in place.

He knew - oh god, he knew - and the thought of Gaston punishing him like this was both dreadful and titillating. It was aggressive: the firm grasp, Gaston’s flashiest smile combined with dark eyes and a closely-knit brow. The slight shake of his head, “no.”

He ordered another pint to keep up appearances, but nursed it slowly, taking a sip only when he lost a game of cards or when Gaston slapped him on the back, fingers massaging his spine, and said cheerfully, “What’s wrong? Drink, LeFou!”

Finally, he had to give up.

LeFou slumped forward against the table, clutching on to it desperately, willing his body to tighten and forcing away the burgeoning urge to piss. His eyes remained half-lidded and he was sure people were watching him. Luckily - he hoped - the redness in his face could be attributed to drunkenness and not to the rush he was getting from this poisonous mixture of humiliation, desperation and arousal.

Gaston leaned forward beside him, elbows hitting the table with exaggeration. He propped his strong jaw up in one of his hands, and looped his opposite arm across LeFou’s shoulders.

He could smell the alcohol on Gaston’s breath, and even from the short distance between them, he could feel the muggy heat from it against his cheek. 

“Don’t let the others catch on, now, LeFou.”

“Gaston--” he moaned out. “Please...I-- I can’t--!”

The room was so loud, bustling and full of idle chatter. Not far from them, someone spilled their drink, and people laughed and shouted, men got together to escort the too-drunk patron out.

LeFou was thankful for the distraction, panting against the table now. His head was swimming, vision blurring, seeing spots of light behind his eyelids as though he was hallucinating. He clenched his teeth to contain the noise, but even the sharp exhales he released through his nose sounded obscene. His hips rocked back and forth shallowly underneath the table, as his cock strained against the fly of his trousers and he struggled to press his legs together even more.

It was torturous.

It was even worse that Gaston was watching.

It was worse _still_ that this was his game to begin with.

As one more card game had reached its end, Gaston tossed back the last of his ale and set the mug down with finality. “Very well,” he said, voice low. “Let’s go.”

LeFou’s entire body ached, muscles stressed to the point of exhaustion.

“I can’t move,” LeFou managed to squeak, eyes screwed tightly shut. His face burned hotter than ever, and though his arms quivered, he continued to hold tightly to the table.

“I’ll carry you. But don’t you _dare_ relieve yourself until we’re in the alley.”

Gaston’s baritone reverberated through LeFou. It was a dark warning that LeFou found undeniably sexy. And he was beginning to think that Gaston was getting off on watching him squirm as well.

His body burned with urgency - ached - but he controlled himself as Gaston lifted him up and swung him over his shoulder. Some of the patrons laughed - gentle ribbing that anyone would get, having to be carried out of the bar. Gaston grinned, “I know,” he laughed along with those who were watching.

Nobody would have guessed that LeFou’s cock was hard, twitching against the manliest man in town’s chest; nor that Gaston was fully aware of it as he grinned and waved goodnight to the townsfolk, walking LeFou up the steps and out of the tavern.

“Gaston--” LeFou hissed lewdly over the man’s shoulder.

Gaston chortled through his nose. “Good boy,” was all he said.

The streets were mercifully quiet at this hour, and dark - quieter and darker still as Gaston toted LeFou deeper into the heart of the alley. Gaston’s hand slipped to cup LeFou’s ass as he positioned himself to better let his friend to the ground, and LeFou’s chest heaved in deep open-mouthed pants, tongue slipping out, shivering violently.

It felt good.

He felt way too good for what was happening to him.

He was a vile mess. Gaston had placed him on the ground, facing the brick of the tavern, and LeFou lifted his arms to brace himself against the wall. The man’s mass was pressed against LeFou’s back; his groin placed square against LeFou’s backside. He was pinned against the wall, and thankfully so, for he worried that without Gaston behind him, his legs would have buckled and he’d make the mess that he was trying so hard to avoid.

It was then that he choked out a hot gasp. LeFou could feel it, when Gaston rocked against him: Gaston’s erection. Tantalizing. Incredible. He breathed quickly to the point of near hyperventilation - completely wrecked - and bucked shamelessly against Gaston’s gratuitous frame.

“ _Gaston_.”

His eyes prickled with unfallen tears behind his eyelids.

His cock twitched again as Gaston leaned in closer, hanging his head just above LeFou’s shoulder, slipping a hand downward, breathing heavily as well. He pawed at the front of LeFou’s trousers, and LeFou’s eyelids flew open.

“Gaston! Stop!!” He could feel himself losing what little control he had left; another tiny trickle of urine leaking against his knickers. “I’m going to--!”

Gaston did stop, then, withdrawing from LeFou to lean against the wall beside him.

He had begun to cry now - involuntarily - letting the tears fall silently, tracing his cheek. He searched desperately to make eye contact with Gaston, but in the darkness of the alley, only the man’s basic silhouette was visible.

He whimpered, so sweetly pathetic, and Gaston snickered sinfully.

He wondered why he couldn’t just unfasten his pants right now and piss - that was what he’d been dying to do all night, wasn’t it? But no, whatever was happening right now between them had him paralyzed. He didn’t understand it. But he was incredibly turned on and didn’t dare move in case he ruined it.

“Gaston-- I really, _really_ need--”

He clutched at his crotch, face flat against the cool brick now,

“You looked so good writhing around back there,” spoke Gaston quietly; a near whisper. “Have you been enjoying yourself?”

“ _Aah_ \--!”

No no no no-- This was insanity. This was embarrassing and humiliating and wrong. LeFou couldn’t stop the tears from running down his face; couldn’t stop his nose from running, dripping down his dry lips, nor could he stop the sweat from clinging to his brow.

He couldn’t stop thinking how amazing Gaston was, how sexy he sounded, spilling such filth from the mouth that he could just _tell_ was smirking proudly.

“Well, dear friend?”

LeFou’s legs trembled even worse than before.

“Y-yes…”

His mind was hazy, overwhelmed completely from two very different kinds of need.

“When you chased away poor Joséphine - that wasn’t very nice, was it?” Gaston threw a hand against LeFou’s back, and he whined; another weak stream of urine spilling from him.

“I-- I didn’t!”

Gaston tutted. “Do you think you’ve gotten what you deserved?”

“I--” But LeFou was too tired to put up a fight. “Y-yes! A-ah-absolutely!”

LeFou’s bladder spasmed, then, and he fell forward, wincing in pain. His cock was throbbing with the need to be touched, and _god_ \- he just needed to _piss so badly_. He was unable to stand straight. He held his crotch, forced his legs together, dancing awkwardly in the dark, not knowing how much of this miserable display Gaston was able to witness.

“It’s-- It’s-- _Oh_ , God--!” he sputtered breathlessly into the night air, bucking his hips shallowly against nothing.

“Do you think you can give me what I missed out on tonight?”

LeFou’s eyes were shut tight, jaw clenched. He focused on leveling out his breathing, focused on finding the perfect position to lean into so that the pain would go away.

But what had Gaston just said?

“What?”

“I think,” started Gaston, groping his way in the dark to grab at LeFou’s chin, “if you’re able to hold out a little while longer, we can both find satisfaction.”

Could Gaston feel the sweat, snot and tears, LeFou wondered? Could he see what effect he had on him? His hand felt so nice, so warm. He’d nearly forgotten, in his haste to relieve himself, that it was damn cold outside. The snow had yet to begin falling, but he saw no reason that it couldn’t be colder than zero degrees outside.

He leaned into the hand that held him and shuddered a quiet, “What...did you have in mind?”

Gaston didn’t answer immediately, but LeFou could hear the sound of Gaston’s belt buckle clinking against his thighs, and fabric rustling against fabric as the drawstring of his slacks came untied. He could see the outline of Gaston’s clothed biceps, highlighted by moonlight, as his arm bent to a slow rhythm, and LeFou knew that he was undoubtedly stroking himself.

“Suck me off and then you can piss.”

He sounded haughty, perhaps well aware that LeFou would never say no.

He questioned anyway, “Here?” Eyes staring at the ground, seeing nothing but dark blues and greys and black. He supposed if they were going to do anything outside, this would be the opportune place to do it.

“Piss yourself for all I care,” Gaston said, causing LeFou to flinch slightly at his harsh words. “Or do as I say and you can relieve yourself with some dignity left.”

That was enough; LeFou fell to his knees, cursing at both the pain from the cobblestone on his knees, and the pressure in his abdomen; the sharp piercing pain in his bladder, threatening to explode. He leaned forward - when he was confident that he could - and moved his face towards Gaston’s dark figure.

The man’s cock poked him in the cheek and Gaston chuckled softly, laying both hands upon LeFou’s head to guide him as LeFou opened his mouth wide to take the member onto his tongue. As Gaston drew back a gentle sigh, LeFou shut his lips tight and sucked hard, desperate to end this quickly, though under normal circumstances, that would be anything but the case.

Gaston’s fingers wove themselves into LeFou’s loose waves of hair, and LeFou moaned at the sensation. He could feel his cock betray him once more, growing harder against his fly and leaking. He held his crotch tight, but he could feel the dampness growing there.

Mind wandering, the pace LeFou had originally set faltered, and the grip Gaston had on his hair tightened at once, Gaston now snapping his hips against LeFou, pushing his cock in fast and deep. Growling in bestial pleasure. It was erotic, LeFou would admit, despite his choking and desperate gasps whenever Gaston pulled out long enough to allow a split-second of breath.

The speed of it all, combined with his own drunken dizziness, threw him off balance and LeFou’s hands flew to Gaston’s hips for support.

But the moment he did, LeFou could feel it happening: one small spurt of urine, turned into a steady flow as he lost control.

Gaston’s thrusts slowed and he came with a quiet, “ _Fuck_!”, coating LeFou’s tongue and lips as LeFou pulled away, shocked and overwhelmed by the sensation of sitting in a puddle of his own piss and filthy clothing. It was a bittersweet relief, but wholly uncomfortable, the cold autumn air abundantly noticeable against his wet legs and cum-striped, tear-stained face.

He was wracked with shame; his sharp breaths turned into silent sobs. Despite it all, the most humiliating part was that LeFou was still semi-hard and aroused.

Gaston’s hands rested on LeFou’s head still, softly petting his hair. He was silent, save for loud, even exhales through his nose.

“Did you finish as well, LeFou?” he whispered suddenly.

LeFou shook his head, and Gaston’s hands finally left him.

“Would you like to?”

LeFou’s sobs were finally vocalized, and even though he was sure Gaston couldn’t see him very well in the dark, he closed his eyes and willed himself to disappear. He sniffled and coughed and whined and moaned, “Gastonnn--”

The man refastened his slacks and buckled his belt, and then knelt down in front of him, petting his head once more. Leaned in - still smelling every bit of stale alcohol as he had in the tavern - and placed his lips against LeFou’s neck. LeFou shivered and hissed in response, drooling slightly. Way beyond wrecked.

Gaston continued to place small kisses upon his neck, seemingly unbothered.

“Shhh…”

LeFou was still shaking, soaked and cold, but his hands found the fastening of his pants and he pulled himself free of them and his knickers with ease. He began to slowly pump himself, still slick with piss, breathing hotly beside Gaston’s ear.

“Gaston…” he whispered, “I’m sorry…”

He could feel the smile form against his neck, the prickle of the other man’s stubble. Gaston’s tongue darting out across his adam’s apple. Soon, he also felt Gaston’s strong, warm hand upon his own, pumping him to fruition.

LeFou came with a thick gulp and a strangled cry: the blissful release of a long night of stress and beautiful torture.

Gaston dabbed LeFou’s brow dry with his sleeve, leaving a gentle kiss behind.

“Why apologize, when we had so much fun?”

He raised his hand to LeFou’s mouth, and though LeFou grimaced, he licked the cum from it obediently.

For the first time this entire night, LeFou smiled genuinely - though Gaston couldn’t properly see it. And when his eyes slipped shut, it was due to sweet relief, and not gut-wrenching stomach cramps. He yawned and allowed Gaston to pull him up to his feet by the back of his shirt collar, the man wiping his hands against LeFou’s front once he stood.

“I suppose I’ll walk you home,” Gaston said, LeFou’s yawn contagious and catching up with him. “You’ll be alright.”

LeFou walked silently beside the man, waddling awkwardly in wet slacks, drawstring tied loosely. He held his arms to himself to block out the cold - his place wasn’t very far - head hung low. He supposed, as long as Gaston didn’t find anything disgusting with what they’d done, he couldn’t complain too much.  

“Chin up, LeFou,” Gaston spoke softly. Strangely enough, he sounded calm and peaceful and completely satisfied. It made LeFou’s chest swell, and he swooned when Gaston snaked an arm around his shoulders and held him close.

His thumb traced circles into LeFou’s back, and LeFou sighed into his soothing touch.

“We’ll just have to make sure you can control yourself next time so you don’t have to make the trek home in wet clothes, right?”

LeFou stared at the ground and agreed with a nod, without fully processing his partner’s words.

In fact, it took a moment for them to sink in at all.

 

 _Next_ time?

**Author's Note:**

> Duders! Chat with me on Twitter: riachinko or Tumblr: rudigerblues/riankoworks ⃛ヾ(๑❛ ▿ ◠๑ )
> 
> And here's a [real good song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yKPPH3dTBYI).


End file.
